Tomorrow Will Come
by fascimility
Summary: AU. On war. Ogata as the main character. He thinks about war, and its casualties. [slight OgataAkira]


Authors notes:

Another attempt at writing and my sincere apologies if this is really terrible. And AU on war with Ogata as the main character. Feedback is always welcome. :) Thank you!

To Yui-mag and Atarii for being such wonderful people in my life. I don't know how to thank you enough.

* * *

_Tomorrow Will Come_

* * *

The wind howled over the barren land in chilly gusts, blowing with an intensity that seemed to cut right through the earth. 

Rain was coming.

Ogata grit his teeth and closed his eyes, massaging his temples. The flame from the oil lamp was dancing in the darkness, and he knew that before long the wick would smoulder and he would be left in the solitary darkness.

Papers, more papers, a cold record of deaths for whom no bell would peal but his. A harsh reminder of the country ravaged by war and scarred by shells.

He knew there was nothing he could have done. But still the pain remained on his chest and grew heavier with each passing moment, till it seemed as though the weight would suffocate him with crushing finality. It ran through his head, innumerable names that had but their broken, embittered commander to wave them goodbye.

Ogata fingered the pen and stabbed in into the paper, hoping that by his action each name would be obliterated from where it stared accusingly at him. Asuka, Kenji, Yamato, Waya. A devilish chant that ran through his head.

There was a snap as the tent flap was pushed back sharply. Ogata looked up; half prepared to berate whoever had been impudent enough to enter without announcement. The half-formed words were caught in his throat as he saw the dripping figure enter the tent.

"Good evening, Commander," Ogata said with a curt nod.

The dripping figure slid out of his coat and moved into the light, putting a hand out to take a light from the lamp. He smiled amiably. "Jealous, General? Black market goods. There are many places around to get these," — Kuwabara tapped the lighted cigarette he was holding—"if you know where to look, that is."

"You know full well that it is not permitted." Talking was a strain for Ogata. Kuwabara was the last person he needed to meet at a time like this.

"Well, that is not to say that you have been too law abiding either, Ogata-kun."

"... Commader, it is my duty to ensure the safety of my troops."

"Of course." Kuwabara flashed one of his smiles as he languidly blew a stream of smoke out.

Ogata turned away and began rearranging his papers, trying to control the trembling of his hands. He readjusted his glasses, pushing it further up the bridge of his nose. When he finally composed himself and trusted his voice to be steady and calm, he looked his commander in the eye. "One cannot afford to lose too many men."

Kuwabara said nothing.

There was a sound from outside; not unlike the tramping of boots through sodden soil. It seemed painfully clear to Ogata's ears. Kuwabara gathered his coat and stubbed out his cigarette, flinging it onto the floor and grinding it with his heel. When he reached the flap of the tent he turned around and gave Ogata a wink before saying, "Take care, Ogata-kun. I expect to see you after the war is over."

With that he left, leavning Ogata with a sourness in his throat.

Ogata could still hear the rain pounding against the sides of the tent, a merciless torrent that fast became an uncontrollable deluge. The trenches would be useless tonight.

"Touya and Shindou reporting, Sir." The voice from the outside was resoanant, even above the roar of the wind.

"Come in."

Ogata knew he might as well have sent the men to face their death sentence. At least that way, it would have been quicker. Korea, China, these were infallible countries. The glimmer of hope that he once had had long been extinguished by the splash of crimson blood.

The battle would be a long one, and there was nothing to do but face it out. That was his duty.

Shindou entered first, the smile on his face not dampened by the water flowing down the front of his shirt. He ripped off a salute that would have made any general proud.

Touya followed behind, more subdued. "Good evening, General," was all that he managed to say. He offered a strained smile to Ogata before turning to his partner. "Show him the map, Hikaru," he said.

Shindou drew a long cylinder out of his coat and unrolled it, slipping a long sheet of paper out and handing it over to Ogata. "I'm sorry, General."

Ogata could do nothing but grit his teeth and hope that the despair in his heart was not reflected on his face. There was nothing left for them. The area was well guarded, covered by the Korean forces led by Ko YeongHa, and the rocky terrain provided no cover. There was no advance, no retreat. Only the future of immediate death.

Ogata closed his eyes for a while. They were but boys. Only boys. Not even men. They did not deserve this. They came grasping the illusion of a brighter future, and would leave with the pain of death, marred with the scars of battle and tainted with the stench of blood.

When he finally spoke, he kept his voice clipped and curt and his eyes carefully averted. "Tomorrow will be a long day. Both of you should rest." With that he turned back to looking blindly at his desk, hoping that the tears wellingup in his eyes were not evident in the waning light.

"Goodnight, General!" Shindou had called out with the smile still in place, but Ogata had long learned to read beyond the cheerful mask to a hurt that was concealed deep within and would devour from the inside. He knew there was nothing that he could do to alleviate the pain, but at least he had spared the boy any more. Had he even managed to do that? Shindou knew, he was sure. Yoshitaka was dead, and something like that could not be hidden for long. Shindou would know.

Kaga, Tsuitsui, Mitani... they had long gone, sometimes Ogata wondered, perhaps for the better. He had stopped wondering about Ashiwara and Saeki—there was no point in thinking of those that would never return again.

"Ogata."

Not 'General'. Not 'Ogata-san'.

Ogata looked up to meet Touya's piercing gaze. He was tired and weary, had had nothing, no hope, no dream, no illusion to cling onto as the last hours of his life slipped past. "Grant me this last wish, Touya."

"Of course."

"Leave this place. Run away. Desert this death hole. Leave while you still can. Promise me that you will depart tonight. The guard at sector three will not be on duty tonight. You may escape from there. I will burn your records and your papers, and add your name to the list of those who died honourably in battle." He closed his eyes and swallowed. "Promise me you will leave. There is nothing left for you here."

There was a pause as Touya stepped forward. "No. I cannot promise you that, General."

"Leave, Akira. I have known you as a child. This is a chance I am offering you. There is nothing left here. If you are concerned about Hikaru, bring him along with you."

"It is not Hikaru."

"Then leave." Ogata snapped. His patience was gone and his nerves were in rags.

The wick of the lamp smouldered for a last instant before it extinguished, leaving the tent in darkness. In his mind Ogata thought he heard those that had perished begin their slow march forward, stepping in rhythm to the falling of the rain.

"There is something left." Ogata heard those words before he was enveloped in a pair of arms, slender limbs belying their strength. He felt the strands of damp hair against his cheek, and the feel of warm lips against his.

In that moment the rain seemed a little less harsh and the pain a little less, and even the bitterness in him was replaced by the memories of a happier time where he still knew how to love, where love still existed unburdened by the promise of death.

The darkness closed in, but this time he welcomed it for its silence and respite, accompanied only by silent restful breathing. Ogata loved him; Akira, shining light, beautiful hope, brilliant fire.

Ogata repeated to himself, "There is something left."

And tomorrow would come, with prayers, hope and despair.

* * *

The End 


End file.
